Love's Four Seasons
by Semirhage
Summary: For the last couple of the weeks in the summer before his sixth year, Harry stays with Ron and Hermione at the Burrow. Unfortunately, he can't evade the burgeoning truth of himself. Angst, slash, and one-sided love. WIP
1. Summer's Passionate Spats

**Love's Four Seasons **

**Author:** Semirhage )

**Rating:** PG13

**Warnings:** Slashyness = boys wanting to kiss other boys. ::grin:: For some odd reason, my Harry here has a dirty mouth. Don't ask me how it happened...cause I don't even know. ;)

**Spoilers:** All five books, I think. I can't remember at this ponit, though.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all those other people that actually have some money. The only thing that I own is the plotbunny and the muse.

**Summary:** For the last couple of the weeks in the summer before his sixth year, Harry stays with Ron and Hermione at the Burrow. Unfortunately, he can't evade the burgeoning truth of himself and Voldemort. Angst, slash, and one-sided love. Oh, and RW/HG, in case that squicks you. =P

**Archive:** , , and my website when I finally get it running. I think that the first chapter's on the RonHarry YahooGroups list, but I'm not entirely sure. In the rare case that you want to archive it, just make sure to drop me a line and address for your site. I love browsing places I've never been before. .

**Betas:**

**Author's Notes:** Err... Wrote this so so so long ago that I'm not sure what to think of it anymore. It was actually the expirement to get me back into the groove of writing HP fics. Yeah...one of the characters _does_ become slightly OOC, but there is a good reason for it. Trust me. The following three chapters are to come soon. Tell me what you think! =)

_( 1.4 ) Summer's Passionate Spats_

"Potter, you prat, you missed one," a sarcastic voice informed as a chubby finger pointed to an insignificant weed in the garden. Dudley Dursley was always ecstatic to make his cousin look like a fool - especially if Harry worked more because of his "administration."

Harry yanked the weed with more force than necessary, wishing it was Dudley's head instead. "One more week," he muttered to himself through clenched teeth.

"Now you've gone nuts, eh, Potter?" Dudley sniggered.

"You wish," Harry spat. He had arrived at the Dursleys' thinking that he might be treated differently because of the events of the previous summer. He soon realised that nothing, besides Dudley's growing waist measurements, had changed.

"How much longer is it until you leave with those weirdos you call friends?" Dudley queried in a falsetto voice. He had many methods to make Harry angry, and casually mentioning the young wizard's "defective" friends usually succeeded in prodding some reaction from the raven haired boy.

Harry, however, merely continued plucking the weeds, forcing himself to ignore his ill-willed cousin. _Seven more days,_ he mentally reminded himself.

Once Dudley realised that Harry would not humour him any longer, he cursed and stormed into the house.

As soon as the door slammed, Harry dropped the sprout he was clutching and scooted against the wall. He sighed and leaned his head back, eyelids lazily closing over deep green eyes. Soon he would be among people like himself - including his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Ron's parents were planning on taking a holiday in Australia during the last few weeks of summer break; Mr. Weasley had received bonus money at the ministry, and the family decided to spend it on a well-earned break from the everyday stresses of life. Harry was not allowed to accompany the family, so Ron decided he would not participate in the trip. The only reason Mrs. Weasley succumbed to the boys' wishes to stay at the Burrow was that members of the Order would always be nearby in case - or perhaps when - anything happened. Harry had been surprised when Dumbledore granted permission for him to leave the Dursleys and stay at the Burrow, but the headmaster of Hogwarts seemed to have specific reasons for every decision he made. Harry never could discern those reasons, but grudgingly accepted the fact that he never would know everything about the way Albus Dumbledore ticked.

"Get back to work, boy," Vernon Dursley barked as his car door banged shut. "Lazy, ungrateful brat, thinking that you can just live off us like a filthy parasite."

Dudley stepped from the house grinning. In his hands he gripped a large ice cream cone dripping vanilla and chocolate. Most of the time Mr. and Mrs. Dursley forgot about their son's diet. Harry contributed their forgetfulness to the fact that Dudley was now so massive that they were terrified to attempt to order him to do anything.

Harry had not been allowed one snack during the summer break, and Dudley was prone to taunting him by flashing scrumptious food at all hours of the day. Many times Harry imagined pummelling the smug look from his cousin's face, but always refrained himself from physically causing harm to the obese boy. As he turned his attention back to the weeds, his thoughts roamed to his friends and his holiday in a week...

Mr. Weasley and Ron arrived at Privet Drive not one minute late. Neither of them wished to stay long, and the Dursleys did not either. Harry departed quickly, glaring goodbyes to his nasty relatives.

"Fred and George wanted to come along to pick you up also, but Mum wouldn't let them," Ron informed Harry. "She was angry 'cause she found out they were planning on selling stuff during the holiday. You know how angry she is that they dropped out of school and went into business selling their inventions."

Chuckling, Harry followed Ron into the Burrow. "So, what do you have planned for the next couple of weeks?" he asked. "Not planning on inviting any _girls_ over, are you?"

Ron blushed scarlet and muttered, "Are you kidding? With Hermione around to tell Mum all about it?"

"So you've thought about it," Harry arched an eyebrow, unable to contain a smirk.

Ron murmured inaudibly as he opened the door.

"Harry, dear, it's so wonderful to have you here!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as she stepped into the kitchen. "Why don't you go with Ron and get settled in? Hermione will be here later this afternoon - if Ron didn't already tell you."

As they traipsed up the stairs, Harry wagged his finger at his red haired friend for forgetting to mention when their friend would arrive. "So, you still stuck on 'Mione?" he questioned casually.

Ron froze mid-step and glared at his black haired friend. "You know, Harry, you're being real, real, well, _mean_."

Faking hurt, Harry looked away from his friend. "Well, if that's how you feel..." he muttered softly as he continued climbing the stairs.

"I didn't mean it, Harry," Ron promised as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to halt him. "I don't know where that came from, really."

"I suppose I can forgive you," Harry sighed as he allowed Ron to stop him, "but just this time."

Realising that Harry had been joking the entire time, Ron released the other boy's shoulder and folded his arms across his chest. "You really are a prat sometimes, Harry. You know that, don't you?"

"That was uncalled for, Ron," Harry responded warningly, his voice laced with ice.

"Yeah, well, the way you act is uncalled for," the red haired boy declared, his eyes narrowed.

"I can't believe this!" Harry exclaimed angrily. "You're such an idiot, Ronald Weasley!"

"No more than you, Potter!" Ron spat. "You can carry your own bloody bags." He dropped the bag he had been carrying to the stairs and stomped to his room.

"Arse," Harry murmured as he watched his bag topple down the stairs. He sulked down the stairs after it, but did not have much time to brood because Fred and George appeared in the doorway with identical grins plastered to their faces.

"Hey, Harry, how have you been?"

"It's great to see you again!"

"How's life at the Dursleys'?"

"How's that about that cousin of yours - still getting larger?"

"Does he remember us fondly?"

"Just like the older brothers he never had..." Fred and George sighed.

Realising the death of the twins' incessant chatter, Harry said, "I've had just the most _wonderful_ summer, and I'm sure that Dudley has nothing but the _fondest_ memories of you two."

Neither of them paid attention to Harry's biting comments. Instead, George asked, "So, where's Ron?"

"Yeah, we never see one of you without the other being a couple of steps away," Fred commented.

"Funny, I thought that applied to you two more than your brother and me," Harry snapped.

"Don't worry - this happens to George and me all the time," Fred said sorrowfully. "You just have to learn when to step over your pride and keep your friendship alive."

"Bugger off," Harry growled as he stalked past the duo.

Ginny found him sulking on the sofa. She told him that he would be staying in the room that had been Fred and George's, but did not stay long due to his bad temper.

Harry had a few doubts as to the state of his current lodgings, and was shocked to find it in good repair. Ginny had assured him that Fred and George had removed all the tricks - by Mrs. Weasley's orders, of course. When he reclined on one of the beds after unpacking his belongings, he was not surprised to find that it vibrated oddly. Soon he drifted into a shallow sleep.

A loud banging on the door pulled Harry from sleep. "What?" he demanded crossly.

"It's Hermione," a cheery voice exclaimed from the other side of the door. "Come out! What are you doing, locked up in there, Harry?!"

Growling, Harry tumbled from bed, landing on his rear. "I'm up," he muttered as he stood. He opened the door and glared at the girl standing before him with a smile on her face. "Happy now?"

"No, now it's time to get Ron," she informed as she dragged him up the stairs to the youngest male Weasley's room.

Harry really did not want to see Ron - because he knew he would either get more mad or apologise. Both possibilities sounded horrible to him.

Hermione did not seem to have changed much over the summer. Her hair was a shade or two lighter from hours in the sun, and her chocolate eyes sparked with some untold humour. There was something different about her, now that Harry reflected on her appearance and behaviour.

"Is something...going on that I should be aware of?" he questioned carefully, eyes narrowed thoughtfully at his friend.

"Nothing that you should be aware of, Harry," the girl winked impishly. "But maybe I'll tell you someday."

Planting his feet into the floor, Harry wrenched his arm free from the girl's grasp. His brilliant green eyes flashed icily at the brunette while his stance clearly stated that he was not going anywhere until he knew that had happened.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, "but only after we've retrieved Ron from his lonely little corner." She pursed her lips as she waited for Harry's response to her proposal.

Harry really did not want to retrieve Ron in any kind of way, but if that was the cost for knowledge he had no choice. "Fine," he said stiffly.

"Harry, don't act like I'm marching you to your death!" Hermione exclaimed, laughing. "It's not like Ron has some deadly disease, you know."

"No, he's worse than a disease," Harry muttered.

"Cheer up," the girl said as she grabbed the boy's arm once more and led the way to their friend's room. Hermione knocked loudly on the door, then tapped her foot impatiently while waiting for a response.

"Go away," a muffled voice yelled.

"It's Hermione."

Harry snickered. As if that would make a difference.

The sound of a person clomping from the bed to the door resounded from the room. "Hey 'Mione," Ron said as he face peeked from the room.

Gritting his teeth, Harry leaned against the wall, locking his gaze on the floor.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed happily. Her eyes glittered at the red haired boy as her hand lifted to run across his shoulders. "You've filled out a bit over the summer."

"Yeah, right," Harry muttered under his breath. Neither of them seemed to notice - Hermione appeared to have forgotten about him completely! Annoyed, Harry cleared his throat to interrupt their reunion.

Hermione laughed merrily as she stepped back. "Your mum sent me up to gather you from your room. It's time for dinner." Finally, she turned to include Harry in her gaze. He glared steadily back at her. The girl turned and walked down the stairs with Ron at her heels.

Harry clenched his fists, refraining himself from punching holes in the wall. He had a feeling that the next few weeks were going to be extremely long.

Mrs. Weasley had engineered an amazing, delicious dinner. Early the next morning the Weasleys were leaving on their holiday, so Harry didn't leave the gathering early. A painful, tense, two hours passed for Harry before the Weasley family and their guests retired to their rooms. Fred and George stayed with Harry for the night. Luckily, they offered to share a bed so the younger boy could have his own.

Harry had finally managed to plug out the twins' loud breathing and constant turning on the bed when a knock sounded on the door.

"Fred, George; it's time to get going," Mrs. Weasley announced.

The twins hopped from their bed with sleepy faces. Harry growled as he sat and found his house shoes on the floor.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," George said in a sing-song voice.

"It's such a beautiful morning!" Fred exclaimed as he opened the curtains.

Harry swore as the light flooded into his eyes. "I don't see how you two can be so bloody cheery right now. Oh, maybe it's because you actually got some sleep."

"Cheer up, Harry, lad," Fred said, grinning. "As soon as we're gone you can get as much sleep as you want. Oh...don't forget to exercise that broom of yours. And get Ron out flying, as well."

"Not in this lifetime," the raven haired boy muttered.

George opened his mouth, then shrugged. "They'll get over it, Fred," he said, placing his hand on his twin's shoulder. "It's just a friendly spat."

Although he did not see what was friendly about his fight with Ron, Harry kept his mouth shut. There was no reason to give the twins cause to stay and chatter any longer.

After saying goodbye, the Weasleys drove away in the car the Ministry let them borrow. Hermione instantly suggested they do something together. When Harry informed her that he was not interested she did not seem daunted in the least.

After stomping to his room, Harry threw himself on his bed and thought about what he could do during the day, since he was obviously not wanted in Hermione and Ron's little outing. He did not have to consider the possibilities long, for he drifted into a light sleep.

_To be continued..._


	2. Autumn's Cool Jealousy

**Love's Four Seasons **

**Author:** Semirhage

**Rating:** PG13

**Warnings:** Slashyness = boys wanting to kiss other boys. ::grin:: Angst, angst, and more angst.

**Spoilers:** All five books, I think. I can't remember at this point, though.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all those other people that actually have some money. The only thing that I own is the plotbunny and the muse.

**Summary:** For the last couple of the weeks in the summer before his sixth year, Harry stays with Ron and Hermione at the Burrow. Unfortunately, he can't evade the burgeoning truth of himself and Voldemort. Angst, slash, and one-sided love. Oh, and RW/HG, in case that squicks you. =P

**Archive:** fanfiction . net, forever fandom, and my website. Anywhere else...just ask.

**Author's Notes:** This fic was actually an expirement to get me back into the groove of writing HP fics. All of the characters get severely pissy in these next few chapters, and fights spring up everywhere. O.O Anyway, reviews are pretty and shiny...and I like pretty and shiny things. .

_( 2.4 ) Autumn's Cool Jealousy_

Eventually, Harry decided that he would take Fred's advice and give his Firebolt a little exercise. He would be back on Gryffindor's team this year, and since he had not been able to practice since early in his fifth year, he decided it would be prudent to use his time wisely.

He had no ideas as to what Hermione and Ron might be doing, but his mind kept wandering to the possibilities. He nearly crashed into the ground at least five times, not to mention the countless trees that he brushed while turning.

By the time he decided he had flown enough, Hermione and Ron had returned from their adventure. Harry glared at Ron as he stomped into the kitchen.

"Harry, dinner's on the table," Hermione's soft voice floated to him. She seemed concerned, which melted the black haired boy's anger towards her. His emotions towards Ron, however, had not changed in the slightest.

Harry slumped in one of the chairs and took the plate that Hermione handed him. When he glanced towards Ron out of the corners of his eyes, he noticed that the red haired boy seemed nervous and sad.

"Harry," Ron started, then looked at his plate.

Harry's head jerked towards the boy. "What?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"I just wondered if I could...talk to you," he muttered so that Harry could barely discern his words. "Only after dinner, of course," he added quickly.

"I'm not hungry anyway," Harry said despite his stomach's complaints. He was curious as to what Ron wanted to talk about so desperately.

He followed the red head from the room; Hermione did not come along. "What is it you want?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, I..." Ron mumbled, staring at his feet as he rocked from foot to foot. "You see, I... Well, I said some things that I didn't mean. Harry, I'm so-"

"Don't," Harry interjected. "You don't have to say that. You were right when you called me a prat. I don't know why I acted like I did. I guess I was just..."

"But, Harry, I shouldn't have overreacted. Hell, Harry, you didn't even say anything really nasty to me. I mean, why should I get so upset about Hermione-"

"...being an idiot. I mean, you're my best friend in the entire world. I can't believe that I got so flustered over nothing. I can't even remember what we were fighting about. How stupid could I get to think that-"

"You're not stupid, Harry. If anyone's stupid, it's me," Ron sighed.

"You? Are you kidding? You're the best chess player in the entire world! And what do I have to show for? Nothing, really..."

"Harry! You? You, who bested You-Know-Who several times, not to mention when you were a baby!"

"But I couldn't have done it without someone else backing me up. You don't need anyone to win endlessly at chess."

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but ended up laughing, joined soon by Harry. "Look at us," he finally managed to say through a fit of laughter. "First we were angry at each other, then we decided to apologise and ended up arguing again!"

"Well, we are a bit silly sometimes, aren't we?" Harry grinned at his red haired friend. "What made you speak the first word, anyway?"

"Well, Hermione asked me to-"

"It was all because of Hermione?" Harry asked sharply, green eyes narrowing.

"No, of course not," Ron promised. "Let's just forget about all of this, okay?"

He looked so sincere that Harry had to agree, even though the thought that Hermione was the sole reason for Ron's sorrow rankled him. Harry trailed Ron to the dining room where Hermione glomped both boys and exclaimed that she was happy they were friends again.

* * *

That evening the three crowded around a chess board. Harry and Ron played during the first round, then Hermione took Harry's place. The match seemed to last forever, and when it finally ended neither competitor offered Harry their chair. 

Of course, Harry was not angry just because his two friends were ignoring him and practically drooling all over each other - no, of course not. He had other reasons, but at the moment the only one he could think of was right before his eyes.

When he was not able to stand being excluded any longer, Harry queried bluntly, "So, Hermione, remember what we decided yesterday? About the secret?"

Ron's head jerked from the board. "What decision? What secret?" His eyes were apprehensive and a little hurt.

_Poor bloke,_ Harry thought. _He must think that Hermione and I have something secret going on. Maybe I should act this out..._ "Nothing that you would know about yet," Harry shrugged as he scooted a chair towards the chess table, making sure to angle it close to Hermione.

The brown haired girl did not seem to comprehend the reasoning behind Harry's actions; in fact, she appeared to think everything was normal. "Well, it had to wait until we had the house to ourselves. You know...it makes secret telling easier." She winked at Harry.

_Maybe she does get it. This could be interesting._ Sliding in his chair so that his shoulder was touching Hermione's, Harry grinned lazily at his red haired friend. "There are some things that are...easier...to deal with when there aren't so many people around. You know...to make the space smaller."

"Harry, Hermione," Ron interjected. "If you two have some secret..._thing_...going on, you don't have to tiptoe around telling it outright. I can handle it if you two are dating, you know."

He looked so flustered at that moment, Harry thought as his eyes roamed over his friend. Ron's auburn hair was dishevelled, almost as if someone had ran their hands through it, his face was flushed in frustration, and his eyes were wide and disbelieving. At that moment, Harry would have admitted everything.

Before Harry could say anything, Ron had sprang to his feet and dashed up the stairway. The sound of a door slamming resounded throughout the Burrow.

Sighing, Harry headed towards the stairs. Time to appease Ron and tell him that there was nothing going on between Hermione and him. Sometimes, the redhead could be damned difficult to deal with - surely, he could tell that they had _not_ been serious. Harry had never had one thought like _that_ about Hermione! For some reason, though, the fact that Ron _had_ annoyed him. He should be happy for him... Right?

Harry knocked on Ron's door, only to receive an incoherent reply. "Ron, it's me...I need to talk to you," Harry pleaded as his knuckles rapped the door quietly.

The door opened slowly and Ron's form appeared in the doorway. "What is it, Harry?" he asked wearily. "I'm tired of games, so if that's what you want go play with someone else."

For several seconds Harry moved his mouth, but no sound emerged. "I don't want to play any more games with you, Ron. I want to...to apologise."

The auburn haired boy bit his lip uncertainly before pushing the door open to admit Harry in. "Want to sit?" he asked hesitantly, motioning to his messy bed.

"I..." the black haired boy shrugged. "However you want me."

Ron arched his eyebrows at Harry's statement, his lips quirking into an amused smile.

"Not in that way!" Harry exclaimed, feeling his face become engulfed in flames of embarrassment. "You're too much of a pervert, Ron," he mumbled as he perched on the edge of the single-wide bed.

For some unknown reason, Harry felt the worry and tension leaving his body. Maybe was Ron's laughter and happy smile was what broke through his stony resolve, or maybe Harry was just finally relaxing after the previous weeks of torment and torture at the Dursleys. The black haired boy decided the latter was the cause.

"So are you trying to hint that you aren't one as well, Harry?" Disbelief was written across Ron's face.

"I never said _that_," he said, his lips twitching as he forced away the laughter that was building within him.

"So...let's talk," Ron said, his voice suddenly serious.

Harry floundered for a few moments, caught unawares. He had hoped that Ron had forgotten, but obviously he was not daunted that easily. Harry mentally smacked himself for fooling himself into thinking that Ron might be such a ditz. "Well, I just wanted to apologise. I - You were right. I was playing a game with you, Ron. I just didn't think that Hermione would jump in on it as well." By the way Ron's eyes and face fell, Harry could tell that the conversation was not going extraordinarily well.

"You mean that you and Hermione lied to me?" Ron asked, his voice faltering.

"We didn't lie to you," Harry protested. "We never said we were dating."

"Yeah, you're right," Ron admitted, and for a moment Harry was relieved to think that the red haired boy would drop the subject. "But your body language said what your words didn't. Damn, Harry, why? Why?"

The black haired boy winced at Ron's quiet pleading. "I didn't think-"

"Obviously, you didn't," the red haired boy quipped curtly. "You _know_ I like Hermione, Harry. You know I do. Why did you do it? Why?"

When he realised that Ron was waiting for a response, Harry shrugged. "You shouldn't have taken me so seriously. You know I'm not interested in Hermione."

"So it's my fault now that I see what you want me to see and believe what you want me to believe. It's fun as long as it's your way, isn't it, Harry?" Ron paused, and when the dark haired boy didn't say anything, continued, "I'm tired of putting up with your shite. I'm tired of everything you put me through, day in and day out. I'm tired of putting up with your wacky emotions and sick sense of humour. And most of all, Harry, I'm tired of _you_."

"What?" Harry asked incredulously. "It was just a bloody _game_, Ron!"

Ron glanced at him sadly. "Maybe to you," he whispered before exiting the room.

Harry fell from the edge of the bed to the floor, but did not move. "What have I done?" he wondered aloud. Nothing had gone as he had planned - he had imagined him, Ron, and Hermione joking and laughing, not fighting with each other. In his fantasies during the weeks he was with the Dursleys, they would all go flying and practice Quidditch (even if they had to drag Hermione into that one). He had never envisioned Ron hating his guts. That was the last he would have wanted to happen. Not after the fourth year. Not after the last year, after... _Sirius_.

Harry choked on the emotions he was holding back. He wrapped his arms around his legs which were scooted against his chest. As he rested his head on his knees, his thoughts concentrated on all the _what-ifs_ roaming through his mind. The predominant of which was where he and Ron were still best friends, happy and carefree...

_To be continued..._


End file.
